


but sometimes a someone is so hard to find

by infalliblefandoms



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Characters Reading Fanfic, Characters Writing Fanfic, Fandom AU, Game of Thrones fandom AU, Grantaire the beta, M/M, Online Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infalliblefandoms/pseuds/infalliblefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Game of Thrones Fandom AU. </p><p><em>Thesunwontset</em> is a huge celebrity within the fandom and one of the most revered writers.<br/>Everybody drools over him. Grantaire is no exception.<br/>And when he asks Grantaire to beta for him… well… you'll see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but sometimes a someone is so hard to find

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from In The Arms Of Sleep by The Smashing Pumpkins
> 
> Written for this prompt: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/9761.html?replyto=1246753
> 
> For the lovely anon who gave me the request on tumblr.
> 
> Come say [hi](http://feuuuilly.tumblr.com/)!

 

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
sup fool, how goes it? still hammering away at that loras meta?  
or have u finally given up and gone back 2 writing delish boy on boy action? u know im all for that

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
hiya  
yeah all done with that, just posted it.  
ooooh who do u want now? jonxrobb? ive done _that_ much renlyxloras its probs unhealthy

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
u know im not fussy  
as long as there's cocks, im happy as pigs in mud

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
hah yeh u really do get off on that  
such a fiend

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** eh, no point denying it

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** so want to beta some porn for me at the meeting tomorrow nite?

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
fuarrrrk yes  
i hope enjy makes me read it aloud to the class ;)

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
fucking christ i think id actually die  
if that happens promise you wont out me  
PROMISE I S2G  
this author must remain anonymous to retain the small amount of dignity hes still clinging to

remember…  
i know where u live

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** hah yeah like u could threaten me punk

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
yeah who am i kidding  
you could defs take me

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
damn fucking straight  
right well im donezo  
bout to start snoring on my keyboard

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
yeh im pretty knackered  
see u tomorrow?

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** u know it

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** night xx

 

User bitch-aint-no-princess is offline. Messages you send will be delivered when bitch-aint-no-princess comes online.

 

 

Grantaire scrubs a hand over his eyes and clicks out of the chat. It's true, he's fucking zonked, but he knows he won't sleep well anyway, so instead of launching himself across the room toward the bed on his wheely chair, he opens a new tab and blinks his bleary eyes against the glare of the screen.

 

Of their own accord, he swears, his fingers type in the url to the one AO3 user he stalks shamelessly. Him and every other person who's ever read Game of Thrones fanfic. One of the fandom big-wigs, a real BNF. An ASOIAF god, really. Which is part of the reason Grantaire nicknamed him _Apollo._ The name was mostly inspired, however, by the ridiculously heavy sun and light imagery that was written into one of his lesser known fics, a borderline pretentious, classically-influenced TyrionxShae one-shot. Grantaire had laughed his way through it, grinning at every poorly disguised dig at Tyrion's contemptible Dionysian lifestyle. Poor guy clearly disagreed with vice and excess. Grantaire doesn't really mind that this means Apollo would probably despise him if they ever met in real life. But alas, the guy was a faceless God of fanfic, and Grantaire would never have to worry about Apollo's opinion of him, because they'd never be meeting. He was content to subscribe to his Archive account and devour every prettily-worded work he posted, despite them all being so very, very righteous. And of course, the asshole just had to use Grantaire's favourite quote to craft his stupidly cute and idealistic username, _thesunwontset._ Grantaire thinks he prefers the original quote, in all it's depressing, melancholic glory, _when the sun has set, no candle can replace it._ He's all about loss and shit, you know?

 

He leaves a comment on Apollo's latest fic, a backhanded compliment accompanied by a suggestive winky face. It's a ritual of sorts, leaving flirty comments that within minutes are lost amongst the influx of OMG THIS IS THE BESTTTTTTT and MOAAAARRRRR (plz xoxo) and omfg I LOVE YOU-- SRSLY HAVE MY BABIES. 

 

He grins tiredly at his own sarcastic wit, glances over Apollo's gorgeously crafted final sentence once more, before logging out and collapsing into bed.

 

 

 

He wakes up to a shit ton of new messages from Eponine, which is endlessly surprising, as it's just past nine o'clock, and she's usually not conscious - at least not conscious enough to form sentences - before eleven.

 

There's another notification from a user he doesn't recognise, and he flicks over it quickly in favour of reading Eponine's bombardment of messages.

 

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** HOLY EVER LOVING CRAP DO U EVEN REALISE WAT JUST HAPPENED

!!!??!?!?!!

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** R U LAZY ASS

ANSWER ME U ABSOLUTE WANKER!

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
jesus christ  
im in a mind to come over there and pour soy sauce all over your face  
i know how much u hate the smell  
bitch u should fear me

or mayb ill smother u with a pillow  
whichever seems more satisfying at the time

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** OMG YOU FUCKER WAKE UP

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
shite man, calm ur tits  
WHAT IN SATANS NAME IS SO IMPORTANT

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** this too shall pass just got another bookmark THAT IS WAT

 

 

This Too Shall Pass was Grantaire's greatest work to-date. It had just over nine-thousand hits, which was an amazingly massive number for him, and was over twenty chapters long. It was pretty much his baby. A dark and gruesome but satisfyingly comedic AU in which Daenerys has taken the iron throne and is trying to navigate the dangerous landscape of King's Landing, Ser Jorah still at her side, _obviously._ If he's being honest, it had just started out as a way to complain through fiction how fucking frustrating unrequited love is. _Jorah, man, I feel you_. 

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** Oi! you listening to me u fucker?

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
so wat? another bookmark  
halle-fucking-lujah  
wat do u want me to do? a celebratory jig?

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** oh stop being a smartass and just go fucking check your notifications

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** ugh whatever

 

 

He opens a new tab and loads his AO3 profile. Right, works… ok. Bookmarks… 

 

Bookmarks: 149

 

…

 

_Bookmarked by thesunwontset_

 

Fuck.

 

What.

 

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** i hope ur prolonged silence does not mean youve thrown yourself out the nearest window or anything

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** what

the

actual

fuck

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** is

happening?

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
exactly  
HOLY FUCKING SHIT PONINE WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** ok ok ok _breathe_

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** uhhhadhfahfgahdahksdg

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** in… out

innnnnn………. and out

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
HE MOTHERFUCKING BOOKMARKED ME  
HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
i wonder if youve ever said fuck so many times before 9am before  
actually scratch that, you definitely have

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
UR NOT FOCUSING  
IM HAVING A FUCKING MELTDOWN HERE

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** oh calm down alright? hes just a dude, not a fucking power ranger.. or a tyrell… or a deliciously handsome greek god ;)

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** fuck you

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** but for srs, what do i do??

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
hmm.. probs write some of that dirty, dirty lorasxrenly porn ur so good at and gift it to himi think thatd send the right message  
dont u?

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** ughhhhh you are actually the worst

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
ok fine, mull it over  
can i distract you with a link to some hilarious jon snow wank

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
probably not  
apollo fucking bookmarked my fic  
 _APOLLO_

i think i might die

 

 

This continues for a good half hour before Grantaire has calmed down enough to extract himself from the bedroom and make eggs and coffee.

 

It's just gone ten when Grantaire remembers that other message he'd never bothered to check. And unfortunately, after all the crazy that morning, his mind is completely getting away from him, imagining all sorts of sordid declarations of lust and admiration from sexy, godlike AO3 users. Well, one user in particular. He almost trips over the coffee table during his spastic sprint toward the bedroom. He flips open the laptop and quickly pulls up his chat with Eponine. He clicks into his inbox and there it is, that one lone unread message. User: justiceserved. Grantaire swallows loudly and opens it.

 

 

 

 

_From: justiceserved_

_To: bronn_for_king_

 

_Hi,_

_I got this address from your Archive profile, hope you don't mind._

_I happened to come across one of your works the other day and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little enraptured._

_Your endless cynicism leaves much to be desired, but your writing is undeniably beautiful._

 

Grantaire's heart stutters a little. He's not used to praise. Especially not praise as apparently sincere as this. 

 

_You have an exceptional grasp of narrative and character development, your plots are rich and your grammar is impeccable._

_I have to say I was impressed by your work, after looking through a few more of your fics. You certainly deserve more recognition._

 

_My point is, I find myself in need of a new beta. My previous beta has pleaded heavy workload._

_His words, "you need to stop dumping all your shit on me, go bother someone else."_

_Which I interpreted as 'it's about time you found someone with a fresh perspective'._

 

_And I suppose I found you._

_  
Would you be at all interested?_

_You can find me on Archive here, archiveofourown.org/users/thesunwontset/_

 

 

Grantaire falls off his chair.

 

(He may or may not attempt a few cartwheels through his living room once his body regains the ability to function.)

 

 

 

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** _ohmyGOD_ ur kidding me!?

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
nope  
fuck what even is life

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
WELL??  
WHAT DID U SAY?

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
jesus nothing  
i cant exactly think coherently right now

im lost, ponine  
go on without me

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
hahahh shut up  
obviously ur going to say YES  
or YES YES OH PLEASE MR SEXINESS ILL BETA UR BEAUTIFUL FICS OHHH ILL DO ANYTHING -  ILL BLACK UR BOOTS!

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
ur such a fucking idiot  
but i love u  
…for some reason

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** go message him back you bloody moron!@#!!

 

 

 

 

Grantaire scowls at the blinking cursor for fifteen minutes before he types anything.

 

 

_From: bronn_for_king_

_To: justiceserved_

 

_Hi,_

 

He's trying for casual nonchalance.

 

_Glad you liked my work._

_I'd be happy to beta for you, honoured even._

 

_-R_

 

_P.S. did my ingenious comments have any part in this decision?_

 

 

 

 

 

_From: justiceserved_

_To: bronn_for_king_

 

_Hi again,_

 

_Great._

_Good to have you on board._

_Is it ok if I send you through my latest draft tonight?_

 

_Also, 'R'?_

 

_P.S. Possibly.._

_I do always look forward to reading them._

 

 

 

 

 

_From: bronn_for_king_

_To: justiceserved_

 

_Sure, go ahead._

_I have a thing to get to, but I'll have a look at it when I get home._

 

_Oh, that's just a nickname._

 

_P.S. Aw, you're sweet. Always nice to know my brilliant raillery is appreciated. Really warms my heart._

 

_P.P.S. What shall I call you? Justiceserved is a bit pretentious, don't deny it, and also a mouthful ;)_

 

 

 

 

 

_From: justiceserved_

_To: bronn_for_king_

 

_That's fine._

_I also have commitments this evening._

 

_R…_

_Ok, I can work with that._

 

_P.S. … shut up._

 

_P.P.S. It's not pretentious. But fine, you can call me Ange._

 

 

 

 

 

 

_From: bronn_for_king_

_To: justiceserved_

 

_Ange?! As in French for angel??_

 

 

 

 

 

 

_From: justiceserved_

_To: bronn_for_king_

 

_Shut up. It's something one of my friends used to call me when we were kids._

_Stop teasing me._

_It's rude._

 

 

 

 

 

_From: bronn_for_king_

_To: justiceserved_

 

_Aw but this is just too good. I like this friend of yours._

_Fine, ok. Ange._

_That's actually adorable._

 

_Sorry.._

_Ok, I have to go._

_Looking forward to reading your stuff._

_Really, thanks for entrusting it to me._

 

_R x_

 

 

Did he just send a kiss to _thesunwontset_?

Oh for shit's sake, he really did.

 

 

Somehow, the whole day had managed to pass without him noticing, and so he has to rush to the meeting. He arrives two minutes before they're scheduled to start, which is nothing short of a miracle. Enjolras glances up as he enters, and his brow furrows momentarily, not bothering to hide the chagrin in his expression. Grantaire's sure that those disdainful looks are for him alone. He winks at the blonde before crossing the room and plopping himself down next to Eponine, giving the girl at the bar two thumbs up when she holds up a beer like a question.

 

"So, do you have the porn for me?" Eponine asks in a low, sultry voice, trailing a finger up his thigh.

 

He snorts and flicks her in the side before pulling out his laptop and placing it across her knees.

 

"All 4000 words of it" he grins, and then his attention is instantly claimed by Enjolras standing up and beginning to speak. 

 

Eponine is distracted for the beginning of the meeting, obviously, which means Grantaire has no escape from all the _feelings_ that happen when he's in the same room as Enjolras. Feelings that he does not want to deal with or dwell on at all. Ever. Nope. Way too many feelings. And not nearly enough beer.

 

He instead forces himself to think about the fact that _thesunwontset_ had asked him to beta his work. _Him._ Grantaire. Drunken, misanthropic, ridiculous Grantaire. His heart flutters a little beneath his ribs.

 

Eponine makes a strangled moaning sound that almost pulls Enjolras' focus, and Grantaire sniggers around the neck of his beer bottle. 

 

Of course, Grantaire's quiet outburst is apparently the most distracting thing to happen since Courfeyrac did a striptease on the bar, and Enjolras stops talking and sighs heavily.

 

"Grantaire, something to share?"

 

"Nuh-uh. I'm good. Unless you're in the mood for graphic descriptions of boy sex."

 

He's not quite sure why he says that, but it earns him a pretty flush across Enjolras cheeks, and choking sounds from both Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Bahorel just laughs outright.

 

Enjolras gapes at Grantaire for a while, opening and closing his mouth a few times as though trying to re-learn the mechanics of speech, and failing. Combeferre stands up and saves the day, as is his job (no really, Courfeyrac wrote "actual literal shitting-you-not superhero that always saves the day" on his CV this one time), and calmly announces that the meeting is at an end.

 

Grantaire approaches Enjolras a little later, offering him a sheepish smile.

 

"Hey, sorry about that. Didn't meant to put you on the spot or anything. It was a bit shit of me…"

 

Enjolras just hums noncommittally, and he's pouting, _oh gods that is just too adorable_ , and continues to shove papers into his bag rather forcefully. Grantaire swears that he sees something with "Lannister" written on it, but he's probably just going insane. Actually, evidence suggests that he's already well on the way there. Whatever.

 

"I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything…" he tries again, once it's clear that Enjolras isn't going to give him anything.

 

"Well, next time, try to keep your crass-ness to yourself. You're lewd enough as it is, and I certainly don't need to deal with you being any more moronic than usual…" he trails off, and glances up quickly, as though trying to judge whether or not he's gone too far and needs to apologise, but Grantaire mustn't look too offended, because then he zips up his bag, clears his throat and leaves without another word.

 

Grantaire is glad he's going home to a full bottle of whiskey and a good long whinge and moan with his beloved bitch-aint-no-princess. Gods know what he would do without that one.

 

 

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
man oh man, finn jones really does things to me  
like dayumnnnn  
he makes me all tingly in my lady parts

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
ok wow tmi  
but like, yeah  
me too

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** oh come on, we both know why u like himsexy face, blonde curls, _great ass_

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** i dont know wat ur talking about

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
uh huh  
u keep telling urself that

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** i will

...i mightve moved on anyway

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
hah no shit!  
this guy must be gooooood if he can beat enjy

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
u know we dont mention that name here!  
BAD PONINE

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
sorry, sorry!  
nah but for reals, who??

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
omg who do u think  
/thesunwontset/  
i mean duh

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
baahahahah WUHT  
YOU HAVE THE ACTUAL HOTS FOR THAT GUY  
cmon theyre probably some chubby high school girl who worked out that more people would read stuff written by sexy man candy than a pimply teenager

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
fuck off  
im the one beta-ing his stuff  
no way hes some tween in spongebob pjs  
i mean, nothing against spongebob… im getting off topic

hes just way too sophisticated  
like fuck - his vocab is out of this fucking world  
and if hes fifteen then hes a fucking child prodigy becuz i havent met any teenagers that can write so flawlessly

..so back down

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
woahhhhhh someones defensive ;)  
mayb u really do like him  
shit this might actually be good for u

u know? might help u get over he-who-must-not-be-named

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
*sighs*  
if only that were possible  
i hate him

but fuck, ponine, _ange  
_ i think theres a good reason his friends call him angel because FUCK ME he damn sure is one

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
that was almost romantic of you, gold star  
also still not over 'ange'  
its just too much

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
i know  
its fucking ridiculous  
but its also so fitting coz hes literally perfect… jesus  
im so screwed  
im in love with two people who will never ever not in a million years like me back  
because one is an unemotional sock puppet and the other is, well.. on the internet

fuck me

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
tempting offer… but unfortunately i dont have a dick  
soz baby

 

 

Grantaire corresponds with Ange for two weeks after that, at least once a day. The fic itself is amazing - and Grantaire has a sneaking suspicion that he might have inspired part of it. It's heavily centred around Daenerys, and Ange has put quite a bit of stock into her complicated relationship with Jorah. Grantaire eats it up. And through his role as beta, it's possible that he tries to push for the romance, attempting to get Ange to write in as much Jorah in as possible, trying to get the guy as much page-time as he can. If page-time is even a thing.

 

He can just empathise with the guy, alright?

 

So him and Jorah are both in love with fierce, determined, blonde revolutionary types. Whatever. At least Jorah's not a sad-case drunk. At least _one_ of them's picking up the slack. Being useful. You know, saving Dany's life and giving her good counsel and all that shit. _Quit making me look bad_ , Grantaire thinks, _you're fucking fictional_. 

 

He looks forward to his chats with Ange more than is probably healthy.

 

 

 

 _justiceserved_ is online

 

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
hey there  
just finished up with the last chapter  
sending it thru now

 

 **justiceserved:**  
Thanks, that was quick.  
I take it you enjoyed that part?

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
fuck yes, twas _brilliant_  
the bit where you had Jorah bonding with the dragons  
ughhhh  
ur good

 

 **justiceserved:**  
Thought you'd like that :)  
I thought it was important for Dany to show him that she trusts him with the things most dear to her.  
At least, that's what I was trying to get across.

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
no totally i got that  
and that boat metaphor _blew. my. mind._

 

 **justiceserved:**  
Really? That's a relief.  
I was a bit unsure about that part.

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
no no no no it was perfect  
as was the bit where she completely _burned_ Jorah  
like he deserved that  
all the dialogue was perfect  
it seemed kind of..  real  
u know?  
like.. weirdly so

 

 **justiceserved:**  
Oh? Well, I may have stolen some of the dialogue from my own personal life.  
I've had many similar conversations with a… friend of mine.  
It wasn't too harsh was it?  
I swear Daenerys tries to keep her temper, but sometimes he just pushes her over the edge, you know?  
He has a pretty intense personality.  
I think sometimes she resents him for the fact that he's so under her skin, the way she depends on him though she desperately wishes that she didn't.

 

 **bronn_for_king:**  
rly?  
well ur friend must be a pain in the ass then!  
and nah, it was good  
as i said - he deserved it  
he's under her skin?? how so?

 

 **justiceserved:**  
Well, as much as she tries to be independent, it's clear to her that he's become ingrained in her life, you know?  
He became important to her without her even realising it.  
He infuriates her most of the time with how overbearing and singleminded he can be, and sometimes she just wants to scream at him and make him _see_.  
But at the same time she doesn't want to change him.  
I don't know…

I guess he's still trying to deny it..  
.. but he can't help but love him.

 

 

Grantaire tries not to read into the pronoun slip, he really _really_ does. 

 

But he never was one to leave well enough alone.

 

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
**..he?

 

 **justiceserved:  
** Shit.

 _Shit_.  
She.  
I meant she.

 

 

At the next meeting, Enjolras asks Grantaire if he can cat-sit for him while he's out of town for a conference. Grantaire balks and stares at him for five minutes before Enjolras waves an impatient hand in front of his face.

 

"Grantaire? Are you free this weekend?"

 

"You want.. _me_.. to take care of Senator Snufflepaw?" Grantaire is still gaping like an idiot.

 

Enjolras sighs.

 

"That's not her name. Can you do it or not?"

 

"You want _me_ to take care of Liberté? Like… not Combeferre? Or Jehan? Or _Cosette?"_

 

Enjolras frowns.

 

"No, I asked you. And apparently you insist on being difficult. Will you or will you not look after her while I'm away?"

 

Grantaire is reminded of the passage in Ange's fic, where Daenerys entrusts her dragons to Jorah. 

 

And that kind of decides it. Grantaire won't let that handsome fictional bastard upstage him again.

 

Though he wonders why Enjolras is entrusting _his_ dragons - or slightly psychotic furball, in this case - to Grantaire of all people. I mean, Ser Jorah, sure. He's a great guy.

 

But who in their right mind would put the thing they hold most dear into Grantaire's exceedingly incapable hands?

 

Enjolras, apparently.

 

He nods dumbly a few times, and that seems to suffice.

 

He's handed a spare set of keys (at which Grantaire's poor heart stops momentarily) and clear instructions on appropriate pet care. Or something. Grantaire gets distracted by how Enjolras' perfect hair shimmers against the backdrop of rain.

 

 

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** wats his handle?

 

**bronn_for_king:  
** _justiceserved_

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
hah  
sounds about right

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** feck off

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:  
** aw someones in lurvvvv

 

 **bronn_for_king:  
** see previous message

 

 

 

Grantaire and Ange have almost made it through fifteen chapters of glorious, exceptionally well-written and even more exceptionally beta-d fic by the time things start to get weird.

 

Predictably, the weirdness is all on Grantaire's part.

 

The first time it happens is when he's waiting in line for coffee with Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Feuilly. He glances up at an inopportune moment, just as the sun glints through the rain-splattered window of the cafe and alights Enjolras in some kind of fucking holy glow. His traitorous brain immediately supplies one word.

 

_Apollo._

 

He promptly tells his brain to fuck off.

 

He can't shake it though, and is still thinking about it well into the night. Jesus. Apollo was his name for _thesunwontset_ , right? Why in hell would his mind link it to Enjolras? Is his own _mind_ against him? Is that really what it's come to?

 

He tells himself to shut the fuck up and go to sleep.

 

The second time it happens, he catches himself slipping one of the many quips he uses frequently to tease Enjolras into some of his banter with justiceserved. He kicks himself mentally _and_ physically (well, he asks Eponine to do the latter) and wonders why his brain thought it was a good idea to insert his ridiculous backwards flirting with Enjolras into a perfectly normal conversation with his online friend. Because that, at least, was true. They'd become good friends. They'd found that they shared some pretty bizarre interests, had the same sense of humour, that they play off each other so easily, as simple as breathing. It feels natural and right. 

 

It also feels like he's cheating on Enjolras. Which is abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous. They are the furthest thing from dating on the entire spectrum of relationship-ness. Gods, he hates that asshole. He really does. Despite the fact that he's in love with him.

 

 

It all comes to a head during one of the group's movie nights. Well, it comes to a head inside Grantaire's head. Which makes next to no sense. But there they all were, watching Game of Thrones Season Three, when two things happen:

 

1\. Combeferre whacks Enjolras' chest with the back of his hand, pointing at the screen and grinning. "Didn't you quote that in one of your..?" "Yeah, I think I might've.."

 

2\. Enjolras says something along the lines of (Grantaire can't be completely sure, Bahorel and Cosette are screeching in his left ear), "But in this new one I'm writing with.. yes, with _him_ , shut up… I actually steal most of this scene. But he fixed up all the dialogue. Seriously, he's amazing, they should hire him to do the show."

 

Grantaire's pretty sure he's never heard Enjolras _gush_ before. And he's pretty sure he's jealous.

 

But then 3. happens...

 

 _3._ Enjolras leans a little closer to Combeferre, not wanting to disrupt the others, and continues: "he had this great idea to make Daenerys and Tyrion form some kind of unlikely alliance…"

 

But he didn't hear the rest because his brain was too busy short-circuiting. And he's pretty sure he just squeaked loudly. Either that or his head just exploded. Or his lungs. Or his life.

 

Because that was _his._

 

 _Grantaire_ had that idea.

 

Him. R. His idea. Enjolras had just…

 

Hooooolymotherfuckingshitballsnope

 

Nope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But _yes_ , apparently.

 

Cosette and Eponine, who had both been called over to his place in full crisis mode… with cheap scotch, as the emergency protocol states, and had been through all the evidence, concluded the very thing that Grantaire had been dreading.

 

It all seemed so horribly obvious now that he knew.

 

 _justiceserved,_ for fucks sakes. He should've seen that one coming.

 

Enjolras. Ange. _Enj… ange…_

 

He should really hold the world title for complete and utter idiocy.

 

_Apollo._

 

Oh my god. He is so screwed.

 

 

 

They go over every possible course of action, from dropping off the face of the earth, to pretending like nothing had happened, to using the knowledge to nefariously sabotage Enjolras' life… to growing some balls and admitting it. To himself. To Enjolras.

 

He legitimately doesn't know which prospect terrified him more.

 

Well, probably Enjolras.

 

Cosette is there to stroke his hair and reassure him that he doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to.

 

Eponine is there to remind him how regret eats away at your soul like paint stripper and acid until you're crippled with guilt and can't sleep without experiencing horrifying nightmares. Thanks for that one, Ponine.

 

In the end, he decides that he _would_ regret it if he kept quiet. Plus, he isn't sure if it would even be possible for him to just keep going on as if nothing had happened. He did have the world's biggest mouth, after all. And he'd do almost anything for Enjolras attention, pathetic as he was, so it wasn't unlikely that he'd just blurt it out at some unfortunate moment during an argument for shock value.

 

So, Plan F: Face Your Fears And Confront The Beast is set in motion. Grantaire doesn't find the title very flattering, but Eponine's in charge. It's all semantics anyway. He's going reveal himself to Enjolras and, as a result, be so exposed and emotionally vulnerable that he'll likely want to crawl into a hole and die whether the plan has a punchy title or not.

 

 

He checks his email on his way over to Enjolras' place.

 

 

 

_From: justiceserved_

_To: bronn_for_king_

 

_Hey you,_

_Where've you been?_

_I missed you._

 

Grantaire really wants to cry.

 

_Had a pretty average day today._

_Was counting on you to make it better._

 

Yeah ok, he's crying now.

 

Because what will Enjolras do when he realises the person he's been saying things like.. like _that_ to is none other than his biggest pain-in-the-ass?

The whole situation is pitiful.

It's not as if he can go on messaging him as R.

That would be deceitful, the thought of it makes his stomach churn.

 

No, he has to be honest. He has to tell Enjolras who he really is. And he has to do it face to face. Or at least, that's what Cosette had said. Curse her.

 

He decides to reply once more, for old time's sake, because he certainly won't have the opportunity once it's all been said and done.

 

He tries not to think about that as he types out a response.

 

 

_From: bronn_for_king_

_To: justiceserved_

 

_Hey,_

_I've just been around…_

_You know._

 

_Sorry to hear that you had a bad day._

_I really wish I could make it better._

 

(I really wish that I wasn't about to make it five billion times worse)

 

 

 

(I really wish that you'd want _me_ to make your day better, not R)

 

 

 

(I really wish that… fuck it. You know that wishing is pointless)

 

 

 

_P.S. I missed you too._

 

_-R x_

 

 

 

 

Enjolras is home. Dammit. He'd been hoping to find the door locked and have a perfect excuse gift wrapped and handed to him so he could just turn home and postpone and have a smoke and climb into bed and try not to think about it but end up sobbing like a baby. Yeah, doesn't that sound swell.

 

He walks into the apartment, the lights are on. Enjolras is sprawled on the couch in his boxers and a ratty t-shirt. He's wearing a pair of old red socks. That's good, Grantaire thinks, it's pretty cold after all. He has his laptop resting on his bent legs, and is laughing softly at something on screen.

 

"What's so funny?" Grantaire asks, his voice startling the almost-silence.

 

Enjolras doesn't freak out, surprisingly, his lips even quirk slightly when he glances across to where Grantaire is standing on the threshold. 

 

"Close the door, would you? It's cold out."

 

Grantaire obliges, but takes no more than three steps into the room.

 

Enjolras looks over at him again, and purses his lips in the way that he does, when he's thinking hard about something. Grantaire quickly refocuses.

 

"It's just a friend. No one you'd know. They're looking over something I'm working on, that's all."

 

"A _friend?"_ Grantaire sounds like he's accusing Enjolras of something terrible. "Working on _what_?"

 

"Just a thing. A writing thing."

 

Grantaire then proceeds to experience a lot of things in the space of a few seconds.

 

First, he feels like it's christmas come early, and his birthday, and easter and halloween and every bank holiday ever. It's all true. Enjolras is _thesunwontset_. It really is him. He knows it is. Shit. He didn't even realise he was such a huge Game of Thrones fan. The more you know….

More importantly, Enjolras _likes_ him. Well, likes R, to be more specific. And _oh_. There's that.

 

And so then it feels like every first-day-back-at-school and every funeral and every fight his parents ever had _plus_ the apocalypse because Enjolras _hates_ Grantaire. He might like R, but R isn't Grantaire. It doesn't fucking matter that he likes R, because that's just online. Once he finds out that R is Grantaire he's going to hate him on principle. He thinks he preferred it when he was just a nobody trawling through static Lannister threads and dolling out kudos like nobodies business, because just because he never got any didn't mean nobody else deserved them. Those were the days.

 

His face must have made for some interesting viewing because Enjolras is sitting up on the couch now, staring at him like he's on something. Yep. Those are the 'what-the-fuck-have-you-been-smoking' eyes.

 

Grantaire does the only logical thing.

 

He bolts.

 

 

 

He ends up back in Cosette and Eponine's arms, with more cheap scotch and even more doritos. They're shovelling ice-cream into him like it's an olympic sport.

 

"Darling, you've just got to do it. Like pulling off a bandaid."

 

Grantaire grunts.

 

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what Ilyn Payne said to Ned right before he brought Ice down on his neck."

 

"How cheerful" says Eponine, from the depths of her bowl where she's lapping up the remaining traces of ice cream.

 

"Guess I'm just in a cheerful mood, what can I say?" Grantaire quips dryly.

 

They somehow manage to send him on his way with a pocket full of inspirational George R. R. Martin quotes and the promise of a kick up the ass if he doesn't tell Enjolras by the end of the week.

 

 

That night, he sends justiceserved one last message.

 

 

 

_From: bronn_for_king_

_To: justiceserved_

 

_Hey,_

_Could we meet up?_

_I know we're both in the city._

_I promise I'm not a balding, middle-aged perv with a pot belly._

_I just have a few ideas about the plot that would be much easier to discuss in person._

 

_Let me know._

 

_-R_

 

 

 

He gets a response, a strong affirmative, and Grantaire's heart simultaneously leaps and plummets.

 

They're set to meet up at some fair-trade coffee joint on Friday morning. 

 

Grantaire has never felt so sick with nerves all his life.

 

 

 

 

Friday rolls around and it's typically miserable. Drizzling and grey, perfect weather for the dissolution of a friendship.

 

His hand clenches around the fistful of paper in his pocket.

 

__

'If I look back I am lost.'

 

'There is only one god and his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: 'Not today.''

 

'Every flight begins with a fall.'

 

'She had put despair and fear aside, as if they were garments she did not choose to wear.'

 

'The man who fears losing has already lost.'

 

_You can do this._

 

 

He sees Enjolras before Enjolras sees him.

 

They're both approaching the cafe, a tiny joint called the Corinthe or some such, from opposite directions.

 

Enjolras is a vision even from a ways off. Golden hair, perfectly tousled by the wind. Black coat with it's collar turned up. He should probably be illegal.

 

He's about ten meters away when their eyes meet.

 

Enjolras stops.

 

Then he approaches again, hesitantly, his head cocked to the side like an adorable, puzzled puppy. His face is all scrunched up in confusion and _stop that right now_. 

 

Grantaire valiantly fights both urges to kiss him and punch him.

 

"Grantaire?" Enjolras asks, still endearingly confused and hesitant. His brow is furrowed and he's pouting a little. Fuck.

 

Enjolras' head is still tilted to the side and Grantaire gulps and his throat is parched and his hands are shaking.

 

He manages to squeak out a timid little "hey".

 

Enjolras sniffles slightly, and Grantaire's heart palpitates several times.

 

"Um. What brings you here?"

 

And he keeps glancing into the coffee shop as though he's worried he's keeping someone waiting. Which, rude. 

 

Well, Grantaire would be offended it it wasn't _him_ Enjolras was so diligently trying to keep a date with. Not that Enjolras knows that. Yet.

 

Another gulp.

 

He tries to play it cool.

 

"Well I'm supposed to be meeting up with someone here." He adds a little one-shouldered shrug for authenticity.

 

"Oh, me too."

 

He looks so adorably clueless and Grantaire just wants to kiss him but _no_ , that is not the kind of path he needs to be going down right now.

 

Not when he's about to do… this.

 

Well, fuck. Here goes nothing. 

 

"Yeah, it's about writing."

 

Enjolras blinks.

 

"Oh? I didn't know you were a writer?"

 

Grantaire lets the words sit heavy between them for a few beats. The wind is making his ears cold. He takes a breath.

 

"Yeah. I didn't know you were either."

 

And then he just stands there, unmoving, saying nothing as the minutes tick by and the puzzle pieces fall into place. He can almost see the cogs moving behind that furrowed brow and he just remains frozen. He really could not move, even if he wanted to. And then Enjolras' eyes widen comically, and Grantaire knows that he's just realised. That he's finally made sense of it all. And if possible, Grantaire becomes even more still, as though he's preparing himself for some inevitable blow.

 

Enjolras' voice is hoarse and barely more than a whisper when he finally speaks.

 

" _You're_ R?"

 

Grantaire squares his shoulders.

 

"Uh, yeah. Look, sorry to disappoint…"

 

He doesn't finish, though, because Enjolras' face breaks out into this ridiculous grin. Well. This does not compute.

 

Grantaire is completely at a loss. Enjolras is _smiling_. Enjolras is smiling at _him_.

 

_What._

 

And now he's laughing and shaking his head and still grinning like a loon and Grantaire literally has no words. The guy who always has something to say, who's ceaseless chatter is either endearing or annoying as shit, depending on how long you've known him, who always has to have the last word. He's all out. Nothing. He's written millions of words in his lifetime, and not a single one comes to him now.

 

"Grantaire" Enjolras breathes, and he's stepping closer, still smiling.

 

Grantaire absolutely cannot breathe.

 

Enjolras is right in front of him now, reaching up to smooth down the lapels of his coat. He can feel the warmth of his palms seeping through the material. Definitely not helping. 

 

His legs are threatening to give way. Any second now.

 

Enjolras looks at him, almost shyly, through his eyelashes, and his teeth are perfect and white and straight and Grantaire has to strangle down the whimper that threatens to escape from his throat.

 

"You're _brilliant._ "

 

And then Enjolras is kissing him.

 

Really, really kissing him. And Courfeyrac is a fucking _liar_ there is _no goddamn way_ he has never kissed anyone before _oh my GOD._

 

It starts to rain.

 

They don't notice.

 

 

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
i hate u  
i hope u know that

 

 **bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
you two are srsly sickening  
MY TEETH ARE ROTTING  
omg stop making out and come pine over finn jones with me

**bitch-aint-no-princess:**  
grantaireeeeee  
ugh u suck  
literally  
woah is he trying to eat ur face or wat  
tone it down chief

ohhh no where r ur hands

 

omg

 

 

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